We have a counselor at our school who, if he ever needs a favor, I say yes before he finishes his sentence. And once, when I asked him for something, his response was, “There are people on this campus who so rarely ask anything that if they ask, I do it immediately. And you’re one of those people.” I told this counselor that he’s one of my favorite people at our school. I told him I admire his direct approach, his passion, and his personal integrity. He not only loves the students, but I’ve personally watched him make some of them better people. He has, at times and in different ways, said the same of me. He was someone I definitely wanted in my daily professional life.

I’ll stop before this mutual smooch-fest nauseates you further, but ask yourself: Do I work with anyone I feel that way about? Do I spend my work life with anyone whose approach I admire, whose rhythms match, align, and gel with mine, whose presence inspires me and raises my game, making me a better teacher (and possibly better person) in the process?

The truth is: You probably do.

But that’s only the first step.

I challenge you to recognize those people at your school and then guard those relationships obsessively. And I challenge you to find even more of them and make them a part of your PLN. Not in a selfish, manipulative way, because you know you can get stuff from them, but genuinely, in a way that increases the mutual benefit, admiration, elevation of standards and achievement, and performance.

That’s a win-win. With a third win for students.

These are your role models. Your inspiration. Your Zen Peers.

Part of being a Zen Teacher is cultivating the Zen relationships that improve and beautify you, your performance, and your life. Find those people who are doing excellent work from a place of both passion and COMpassion. Discover the people at your school who make the process feel fun and the work feel enjoyable and the mission feel important.

And become part of their dance.

But merely finding them and incorporating them into your life is also not enough.

You must also work diligently to avoid the soul-sucking, gossip-mongering, negative-spewing, only-in-it-for-the-paycheck teachers who surround us all. Be nice. Be polite. But whenever possible, be somewhere else.

And of course these are the ends of the spectrum. You will also find peers whose performance you admire, but whose personal approach is unavoidably negative. Or staff members who will do any favor, but share every secret you told them behind your back. In those cases, you have to use your best judgment to modulate the give-and-take.

That’s why I called it a dance.

And don’t forget to approach it with Beginner’s Mind: You might connect and learn and be inspired by anyone. Male or female. Veteran teacher or first year teacher. Faculty or staff. Credentialed teacher, secretary, or groundskeeper. You never know where great ideas, deep commitment, and excellent attitude and performance will come from.

So with your new-found commitment to a Zen-inspired simplicity, why not learn to streamline your life and work by increasing the number of Zen Peers while deflecting, avoiding, or completely eliminating the ones who drag you down?

Finding Zen Peers is not only possible; it’s liberating. You can do it by identifying the people who share your vision, your rhythm, and your perspective on life and teaching. And then, by incorporating them into your daily dynamic, you can move to that next level of peace and performance.

In an effort to provide you with even more valuable content, I am introducing a new feature called 2 Minute Zen. In much shorter bursts than the regular blog posts, I will be offering brief thoughts, reflections, and exercises on approaching your classroom (and your life) with a more serene, peaceful, focused, zen-inspired mindset. Enjoy.

Silence. Carve out some time for silence every day. Silence allows us to retreat from the white noise and distraction from the world. Spend the time in prayer, meditation, or reflection. Stillness. Once you find yourself in silence, be still. Only in stillness can our awareness drop down past the hub-bub of every day life into that deeper well of consciousness where we can listen to our hearts, The Universe, or the deity of our choice. Attention. After finding silence and cultivating stillness, we are more prepared to pay attention to the specifics of our world in a way that will create focus and peace in our lives by giving us permission to be attentive to our passions. TZT

One day, about fifteen years ago, I mentioned to my wife that I had a lemon muffin at work. I said I was really looking forward to it, but it wasn’t very good.

“It was hard and dry,” I said. “It was all I could do to finish it. I really had to choke it down.”

As it turns out, she was about to school me in a powerful lesson on mindful choices. When she spoke, it was in the quiet voice of a Zen Master, “You realize that you didn’t have to eat the whole muffin, don’t you?”

I just stared at her.

I grew up hearing that I needed to eat my peas because children were starving in other countries, and so I always figured I should eat everything put in front of me. Plus, (it must be said), I love food. So I usually WANTED to snarf up every last morsel. So OF COURSE I had to eat the entire muffin. . .didn’t I?

As it turns out? I didn’t.

I had choices: I could have bought something smaller, shared what I had left, or thrown some of it away.

Many of us, I think, speed through our lives, racing from moment to moment, and rarely stop to consider individual choices based on the immediate stimulus. Or perhaps it’s just me and day-old baked goods.

Ultimately, it became a family in-joke. When one of us seemed to be stampeding through a set of circumstances we weren’t fully present in, the other would say, “Remember: You don’t have to eat the whole muffin.”

In an effort to provide you with even more frequent and valuable content, I am introducing a new feature called 2-Minute Zen. In much shorter bursts than the regular blog posts, I will be offering brief thoughts, reflections, and exercises on approaching your classroom (and your life) with a more serene, peaceful, focused, zen-inspired mindset. Enjoy.Marketing guru Seth Godin once said, “Better is better than more.”

He meant that we can try to do more, have more, and experience more.

But in this approach, he claims, we only invite and embrace mediocrity.

Or we can try not to do it all, and become excellent at specific things we do.

I agree. So my plan is to try to do fewer things and be better at what I do.

Sometimes I ask the students I tutor privately a very serious question: “What did you do last week for fun?” Without exception, they stare at me with their eyes glazed over and hem and haw for a few minutes until, out of a heartbreaking sense of pity, I let them off the hook. In their race to nowhere, these students’ lives are so full of violin and tennis lessons, SAT classes, and debate and soccer tournaments that they’ve forgotten how to be idle, how to goof off. This is criminal. I told one student that for homework I wanted him to spend 20 minutes just lying on his bed doing nothing but staring at the ceiling. Judging by the look he gave me, you’d have thought I’d asked him to shank his sister.

* * *

Teachers are no different. The Merry-Go-Round is often going so fast we forget we’re supposed to enjoy it. Well, this is your reminder. Start tonight: Do something fun. Read for awhile. Listen to music. Take a walk. Sit in a chair and do nothing. You’ve worked hard. You’ve earned it. McDonald’s used to have a slogan: You Deserve a Break Today. They were right. TZT

And an integral part of maintaining the balance and equilibrium of life is learning to listen to our bodies. Why? Well at the risk of waxing too poetic, it's because our bodies are like the dashboard to our souls. They send us signals and messages about the vehicle in which we are traveling.

To wit:

Our body tells us when we're hungry.Our body tells us when we're comfortable.Our body tells us when we're in pain.Our body tells us when we need rest.Our body tells us when we're energized.Our body tells us when we're hot or cold.Our body tells us when we've eaten too much pizza and when a Sandra Bullock movie is on cable.*Our body tells us when we need exercise.Our body tells us when we need to stop.Our body tells us when we need to go.Our body tells us when we need to be touched or hugged.

Learning to heed the messages our bodies send is one step toward not only being an effective teacher, but for becoming a complete and healthy human being--a pesky little detail dedicated educators often overlook.

You wouldn't continue to drive your car when the "Check Engine Light" comes on, would you?

Of course not.

So now is the time to pay attention to the dashboard of your soul is while you can still hit the accelerator and put the pedal to the metal (I am from the 70s, after all. . .), and before you have to pull over to the side of the road, hit the hazard lights, spark up a flare or two, and dial Triple A. TZT

As a hard-working, committed educator, do you overextend yourself and ignore the signals your body sends you? I invite you to leave a comment telling me what that looks like and how you've dealt with it. TZT

As a profession, we are requiring our teachers to do things that are harder, less connected to genuine learning, and, most sadly, profoundly and unnecessarily complicated.

Case-in-point: Each semester our English department is required to administer a district-imposed writing assessment. The old district writing assessment--the one given when I was hired over twenty years ago--took one class period, was comprised of roughly three sheets of paper, and was hand scored. Grading the essays holistically for a class of thirty-two students took about twenty minutes.

The new assessment, which is to be administered over several days, comes in a fancy, multi-color packet with three articles, a writing prompt, and blank pages for planning and writing the essay. After we give it, the packet must be bubble-scored and then scanned into an on-line scoring system called Illuminate. Illuminate allows for the data to magically be converted into things like impressive bar graphs and colorful pie charts. And while it’s an important skill for students to learn how to read and annotate articles and write an essay synthesizing information from multiple sources, the assessment is so inorganic, so disruptive, so unengaging, and so stunningly irrelevant to what we’re doing in class that the odds of its data actually driving instruction are about as likely as me becoming the lead singer for One Direction.

So of course I used it as my final exam.

***

I’m not against change.

Nor am I against technology, high academic expectations, or our district’s authority.

But I am against complexity.

Especially when it’s unnecessary.

It's also usually more expensive.

Unnecessary complexity is the enemy of learning, the antithesis of knowledge and understanding.

We need to rediscover the essence of what we’re doing.

We need to re-find our purpose.

As educators.

As an industry.

And then we need to use that purpose to re-connect to students.

And then take that purpose and tie it into actual learning.

What we need, after all, is simplicity.

The answer is not to add MORE to what students and teachers are expected to do, but to streamline, to pare, to subtract, to reduce. We should be eliminating the white noise, the merry-go-rounds, and the bells and the whistles. We should, as a mentor once told me, go narrow and deep. We should ask questions, carve out space to wonder and ponder, and give ourselves permission to attempt and fail. We should do these things, and not continue to test and score and aggregate.

And the irony is that true simplicity takes effort. And thought. And planning.

And it’s this effort, thought, and planning we’re being robbed of as we spend three and four of our 180 days administering The-Emperor’s-New-Clothes-of-An-Assessment that will tell the bean counters at the district little or nothing, and will tell teachers in our English department even less. The word on the street is that the district doesn’t even plan to look at it. This is just one example of the overwhelming complexity we’re faced with in the modern American classroom that is suffocating our spontaneity and exploration and stifling our chance for genuine growth and learning.

So, as a Zen Teacher, I will be approaching the new semester with an eye toward reduction, toward doing only that which is necessary. I will work toward creating the time, giving students the space, and allowing myself the energy to create genuine, organic learning.

But I’ll do it by concentrating on less, not more.

So as I spend my classroom hours doing the requisite hoop-jumping, I will still create my own sense of focus in the classroom, fine tune my lessons down to their essence, and provide my students with the beauty and the joy of an educational experience comprised of purity and clarity.

“When walking, walk. When eating, eat.” –Zen Proverb So often we are doing one thing, while focused on another. While making dinner, we are also lesson planning, instead of smelling the pungent aroma of our spaghetti sauce. When walking the dog, we are rehearsing the phone call to our colleague about how they missed a deadline, instead of being amused by our poodle's antics. When taking a shower, we are fretting about the water bill, instead of feeling the hot jets of water soothing our sore muscles. But it doesn’t have to be this way. Earlier this morning, for example, I had occasion to walk from my classroom to the office. Instead of worrying about my afternoon classes, next semester’s books, or the dead right headlight in my car, I tried my best to simply notice my surroundings, be in The Moment, and be present for the walk. Here is a sample of what I was able to experience as I walked, unencumbered by other thoughts: 1. A piece of crumbled and toasted white bread littering the hallway. 2. A swallow in the tree, flitting from branch to branch. 3. A puddle on the concrete by the cafeteria, reflecting the lunch tables. 4. The shadows of the trees falling across the beige classroom doors, moving in the breeze. 5. A gaggle of students crossing the quad, chatting and texting. 6. A renegade breeze in a cool, but calm morning, tickling the back of my neck. 7. A twin engine plane moving across the sky, puttering toward its destination. 8. Brown and brittle leaves, curled and withered, dying in the grass. 9. The buzz of saws and boisterous conversation coming from the woodshop class, signalling creation. 10. The humming the air conditioner as I re-entered my class, cooling the room. By focusing on the immediate moment (instead of allowing myself to be preoccupied by random, irrelevant thoughts) and using my senses (instead of ignoring my environment), I was not only more present in my moment, but meaningfully increased my sense of joy for a world that always exists around me all day, every day--if I only care enough to look. TZT

1.Embrace Acceptance. The failure to meet the artificial expectations we’re white-knuckling is the origin of almost all suffering. Detaching from expectations and accepting the moment as it is increases our possibility of happiness. The moment isn’t good or bad, it just is.

2.Experience Non-judgment. Similarly, we can save much energy (and increase our sense of joy) by turning off the judging mechanism in our minds and just let things be.

3.Help Someone. A student. A new teacher. A veteran teacher. A custodian. A secretary. A cafeteria worker. Serving others is like Crack for the soul.

4. Practice Non-Doing. Find time during the day for silence and stillness. A quiet mind is a fertile mind.

5. Make a goal. Always have something to shoot for--a new unit, a new approach, a new skill, or a new vision. Looking forward gives us hope and hope makes us happy.

6. Access Your Passion. Remember what made you want to be a teacher in the first place. Then spend as much time there as you can.

7. Say No. Save your energy, passion, and emotion for the things that matter. Don’t use yourself up on drivel. Wait for what moves you. Ignore everything (or most everything) else.

8. Value Mentoring. Find a mentor. Be a mentor. That way, everyone learns.

9. Work Together. Not in the endless, useless “collaboration” meetings that all teachers must endure, but in the cafeteria, in the hallway, at lunch, during happy hours, via voicemails and emails, in between the stalls in the rest room. This is where the important work is done.

David, who happens to be autistic, has been a student of mine for two years--first as a Sophomore and now as a Junior. Although special education teachers have explained this, I didn’t need anyone to tell me that David struggles to connect his thinking to his writing. It is virtually impossible for him to get the ideas down on paper. And because he is also smart, this frustrates him. It’s a bit like a string of Christmas bulbs with a burned out section, where you can see the lit-up red and blue and green, but you just can’t figure out why the light doesn’t make it all the way down the strand.

During a recent assignment, students read a non-fiction article and then wrote an essay. David once again sat at his desk, staring at his blank paper. Like other times, he asked if he could go into a nearby empty room to focus. Like other times, I said yes. After he left, I continued helping the rest of the class.

Before long, David returned, wringing his hands and furrowing his eyebrows. “Do you mind if I write it on the white board?” he asked, then spread his arms wide. “The space helps me. I think I can get my ideas down better. Look, I’ll show you.” And then David took me in to the other room. In tiny letters, he had begun to write his essay on the board, while the rest of his papers were spread out on a nearby desk.

I could have said no. I could have said the final draft must be typed. I could have said it’s not fair to the other students. I could have said life doesn’t work that way and you’d better learn to adapt. But I didn’t. By detaching from my original expectations and accepting that this would work for David, I was going to see some of David’s writing. If I accepted, David might feel a little bit understood. If I detached, I might see more of what David had to say. If I was the one to adapt, not David, I just might get the tiniest glimpse into his process and his thoughts.

“Of course you can,” I said. “I’ll just use my phone to take a picture of it and I’ll grade it that way.”

David smiled and nodded.

When I left, David was standing in front of the white board taking inspiration from the space around him, and using the red marker to write in a script that while distinctive, I saw all too infrequently.

As I stood there, I thought of watching Russell Crowe standing in front of the chalkboard scribbling formulas in A Beautiful Mind.

For the truly devoted, teaching can be a 24/7 proposition. More meetings can be attended, more lessons can be planned, more professional growth workshops can be taken, more 1st grade bulletin boards about Autumn can be crafted, more Scarlet Letter essays can be graded. Devoted teachers, however, often have a difficult time turning off, saying no, avoiding extra work and responsibility. A dedicated, hardworking teacher, they figure, is a caring teacher, a gifted teacher.

And they’re right. But what is the cost of an approach where our work could be endless if we let it? In Crisis in Education: Stress and Burnout in the American Teacher (Jossey Bass 1991), author Barry Farber reports that only about half of all teachers last more than four years on the job. That’s a shame. And this was before The Standardized Testing Machine metastasized into the mindless Behemoth it’s become, where we’re expected to do more with our students, only with less time and less money. In this model, we see more duty, but less fulfillment. Is it any wonder we’re seeing even more teachers crash and burn, ignore their callings, and search elsewhere for their livelihood? To help you avoid that endgame, allow me to argue for a more balanced approach that will help you get your work done without breaking down or burning out.

I hope these reminders help you stay a teacher instead of merely becoming a statistic:First of all, you deserve peace. You’re entitled to be treated like a professional. You’re allowed to speak up. You’re entitled to decent working conditions, materials, equipment, and supplies. You’re allowed to say I don’t agree. You’re allowed to say I don’t think so. You’re allowed to laugh or cry at the endless hypocrisies of The Education Machine. You’re allowed to take a break. You deserve to take care of yourself. You’re allowed to assign less. You’re allowed to make fewer marks. You’re allowed to say I don’t know and I’m not sure. You’re entitled to institute your own Personal Vision, regardless of The Almighty Standards. You’re allowed to say no. You’re allowed to think of teaching as An Art. You’re entitled to what Anne Lamott calls Radical Self-Care. You’re allowed to do less, and do it better. You’re allowed to say I don’t care. You’re entitled to take time for reflection without guilt. You’re allowed to take time for rejuvenation without guilt. You’re allowed to rest. And remember, 24/7 teacher friend of mine, even God rested. Putting these ideas into action will not make you a bad teacher or a bad person. In fact, in a bit of magic worthy of a student of Hogwarts, they will--lumos maxima!--increase your focus, deepen your sense of fulfillment, and increase the quality of the energy you will be able to provide your students, your family, and yourself. Which is perfect, as it turns out, because we need you. TZT

Yesterday, my plan was to get to my classroom, grade some papers, make copies of a poem I wanted to share with my juniors, and answer some emails. But life intervened. As I set my stuff down in my classroom after walking through the door, a student burst in needing help with a computer issue. Mere moments after he was gone, the English department chairperson came in to pick up the Chromebook cart. In the process of transferring the cart, we chatted about how the district’s decision to end the semester the following year at Winter Break, rather than at the end of January, which is where it ends now. When I returned from a bathroom break (an activity, as teachers know, that is dictated entirely by the bell schedule), I realized there were only eight minutes left until my first class began and not one of my original goals had been addressed. Looking around, I thought: what can I do in eight minutes? What will give me a sense of peace, space, and accomplishment? So I cleaned my desk. Many other things needed to be done, but I knew I couldn't do them in eight minutes. But if my desk was clean (and by clean, I mean cleared off), I could move forward with a lack of clutter and a simpler vision.

Though only one surface in a world of chaos and clutter, in six and a half minutes it was clear. I learned yesterday that when you’re overwhelmed and you can’t seem to make headway or get any traction in your day, it pays to look around and ask what one thing would make a difference if it were done? Then do that thing. Think of it as a catchy little metaphor: When in doubt, clean the desk. TZT

Present. The present is what’s happening right now. And that’s really all there is. The Dalai Lama said, “There are only two days in the year that nothing can be done. One is called Yesterday and the other is called Tomorrow.” The only time we can live, act, do, or make a difference is right now.

Moment. Think of each moment in life as an individual stone on an elegant necklace, each one tied to the next, each one with its own uniqueness, its own beauty. Moments are, in fact, separate entities unto themselves that we can acknowledge and appreciate one by one. Slowing down to experience each stone in the necklace can enrich and deepen our lives.Awareness. Having an awareness means being awake, acting consciously, noticing what’s there, seeing what’s happening, and internalizing our own reality. It’s recognizing the truth of the moment and dealing with what is, not what used to be or what might be later.

Present Moment Awareness is not always easy and, like most worthwhile things, takes practice. So many of us stagger through life from one reactionary crisis to the next. That’s no way to live. I know because I do it all too often. Refocusing our energy and attention to what’s happening in the moment and being present there, however, is a step we can take toward more peace and tranquility, more beauty and more fulfillment.

You can practice Present Moment Awareness when you walk your dog in the evening and notice the stars or clouds or as you watch your students take their spelling test and hear their pencils scratching across their papers.

The key is to stop and say this is what's happening now, I'm noticing it, and this moment is okay as it is. TZT

Silence is an art, an art we’ve forgotten how to practice. In the cacophony of the modern world, we’ve become afraid of silence.

We are frightened by stillness and no sound. We are scared of no words. We are unable to not talk.

But we should not only invite silence, we should embrace it.

Silence should be a part of our lives, a part of every single day. We should spend time in the poetic void of silence because once the world (and our minds) quiet down, we can access that deeper place of thought and emotion, peace and empathy. In silence, we are able to synch ourselves to the rhythmic pulse of the heartbeat of The Universe. Spending time in silence is so incredibly rich, relaxing, and life-affirming--at least for something that totally freaks us out.

This is one of the reasons people are so addicted to their gadgets; our eyes are glued to the glowing blue screens of our devices because of our constant need for something to do, because of our unending thirst for sound, white noise, and distraction.

Quaker philosopher William Penn once said, “True silence is the rest of the mind, and is to the spirit what sleep is to the body, nourishment and refreshment.”

While my little Zen Teacher blog is still in its infancy, I’ve been lucky enough to have a few people let me know what they thought. Here is a sample of what people have been saying:

On Fast Breaks (The 5 * 10 * 15 Formula):

I'm not a particularly 'Zen' person, but I've quickly come to love how practical, calming, and focusing this approach can be. A few moments to regroup, to be thankful, to be 'present' - and as a result, I'm probably a little bit better teacher, husband, person, etc. Probably doesn't hurt the blood pressure either. --Blue Cereal Education

You reassure me that my anxieties are not unique to me, they are founded in real concerns we all have, and that taking a breath, even a 5 minute walk around the block, will change my mindset. I'm starting that today. --Kristin M. (an email)

On New Beginnings. . .New Lessons (Reflection question to begin the New Year):

Creating lesson plans or prepping for my students adds stress because I am always looking for perfection. I am always looking for the "ultimate engaging lesson" but these questions keep me focused. I printed them out and placed them above my office desk so I can refer to them whenever that overwhelming feeling creeps upon me. Thank you! --Abeer

On The Big Three (Everything changes, everything’s connected, paying attention)

Great post! Thank you! --Lindsay

On 2-Minute Zen: The Single Drawer (about reducing your office to single file cabinet drawer):

Google Docs to the rescue! --Kim C.

On Three Steps to a More Peaceful Life (Create rituals, create meditation opportunities, create White Space on the Calendar):

"We've lost the art of leaving some of those little calendar boxes empty" really resonated with me. Thank you for sharing these ideas for finding a little peace in our busy lives! --April B.

On What Does it Mean to Be a Zen Teacher:

Great message; thanks for sharing. --Myra V. On Zen Is. . .

Seems so easy, deceptively so. Very good post! I will try to remember all of this when school starts on Tuesday! --Laura P.On My Dad, The Zen Master. . .(on how my dad exhibited Zen Master qualities)

I think each of you in your teasing ways were actually participating and that made it more worth while. --Mike T.

Okay, that last one was my dad talking about my brothers and sisters, but you get the point. These comments allowed us to interact, to begin a conversation, to explore the ideas. I encourage all of you not only to take a few moments to comment on whatever education-themed blogs you read, but also extend an open invitation to let me know what you think of what I’m saying here at The Zen Teacher. I'm grateful for your feedback and humbled that what I'm saying seems to be resonating with some of you.

Talk to me. Let’s make a ruckus in the world of education.

Namaste. TZT

HT to Blue Cereal Education for the article link.*With apologies to Robert DeNiro

Vacationing in The Caribbean might be lovely, but there are smaller and cheaper moments of Zen right at your fingertips.

Five minutes. Our pastor said once we could all carve out five minutes a day just to pray. So I closed the classroom door the next day on my prep period and spent five minutes just talking to God. But it doesn’t have to be prayer. It can be stepping outside to watch the birds, to read a poem, or to listen to a song (“Riders on the Storm” by The Doors clocks in at 4:35. Just sayin'). Even a few minutes apart from the day can make a meaningful difference.

Ten minutes. In addition to my day job as a high school English teacher, I do private tutoring around San Diego. Sometimes I find myself in front of a house roughly ten minutes early. I take these ten minutes to focus, breathe, meditate, regroup. Even in the busiest of days, I can afford these 600 seconds. I suspect we all can, if we look ahead and plan a bit.

Fifteen minutes. Yesterday I took down our Christmas lights. Every year our side fence looks like The Griswald House in Christmas Vacation. So after removing the last strand, I set out a lawn chair, grabbed a cold 7-Up, and set my phone alarm for 15 minutes. As I sipped my soda, I looked at the cul-de-sac, the sky, and the clouds. Eventually the alarm buzzed, but only THEN did I venture to the OTHER side of the fence to gather and wrap up the seventy-two extension cords.

A Princess or Carnival cruise? Great. A trip to the Bahamas? Awesome. A romantic weekend in a Bed and Breakfast. Don’t mind if I do. But it turns out that basketball courts aren’t the only places where Fast Breaks can be beneficial. TZT

I stopped making New Year’s Resolutions years ago simply because I never follow through. I've also learned that reflection, change, and improvement can and should happen all year long. Nevertheless, Januarys do signal a new beginning, and so are worth some reflection and inquiry. So here are some questions for us to consider as we ruminate over our growth as educators in 2015: --What is the essence of my lesson? --How can I streamline my curriculum to emphasize the important stuff? --What is the important stuff? --Where do I want to be by June? --What do I need to get rid of to make room for my passion? What needs to go? --What do my students need? --How can I reach that unreachable kid? --How can I be more present in the lesson? --Where is the negativity and how can I get rid of it? --How can I develop more gratitude and compassion in the classroom? --What do I need to do to take care of me? --What steps do I need to take to involve (or ignore) the administration? --Do I need to create physical space in my classroom or spend time decluttering? --What personal or professional development do I need? --What steps should I take to take care of my health, as it relates to teaching? --How will I cope with the stressors thrown at me by The Education Machine? --Which teachers, leaders, or programs do I want to align myself with, interact with, or follow? --And will there be cookies? I’m excited about how much more effective I will be in the classroom if I am able to answer even a handful of these questions, and can put those answers into play.* The alternative means doing things the way I’ve always done them--and that’s just so 2014. TZT*If these questions are helpful to you, I would love to hear how you put them into play.